Monster trucks and fireworks
by justPeace
Summary: Wilson finds himself in a strange situation. Nothing special, just a little House and Wilson banterfic. No actual slash, but it's up to interpretation. T for slight language.


Dr. James Wilson was not one to panic. Nevertheless, he was coming close to it now. He was outside in the blistering heat, feeling both overdressed and underdressed at the same time. Wilson was used to the restraint of his work clothes, the feel of the tie against his neck and his itchy labcoat with conveniently large pockets. Then again, considering that most of the men and women around him were content wearing tank tops and shorts or less, he couldn't help but feel a bit stuffy in a simple t-shirt and jeans.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. What had House gotten him into this time? He remembered the phone call quite well. House's phone calls were usually memorable.

"23 Orchard lane, Saundersville." House's raspy voice had declared to him triumphantly over the phone.

"What's this, your new hideout? Did Cuddy finally find out what happened to her red lingerie?"

"Are you kidding? Those people down at ebay are good, trustworthy folks. Anyway, I'm actually talking about the address to the event of the century."

"And I don't suppose this would be unveiling of the largest Vicodin pill in history? 'Cause if it is, I'm not interested."

"You're just jealous that I pay more attention to my pills than you."

"The fact that you do is somewhat worrisome, yes."

Wilson heard House pause, then snort. "Whatever. Anyway, look. It's the Fourth of July fireworks/monster truck show. It's down south, near that lake Bigfoot or whatever..."

It was Wilson's turn to snort. "It's called Proudfoot." Wilson blinked when he realized where House was talking about. "House, that's two hours away! Plus, it's in the farming district. I didn't think you liked farmers."

House tisked. "And I didn't think you were so judgmental, James. Those poor men can't help it if they're uneducated. Gosh." Then his tone changed, less mocking and more serious. "Just be there at 5 on Sunday, okay? I gotta go. General Hospital's on."

Wilson had opened his mouth to protest, but by the time the first syllable was out House had hung up.

So now Wilson was here, in this strange place with the smell of barbecue rampant in the air. House wasn't here, and he wasn't answering his cell phone or his home phone (but the latter wasn't particularly surprising. House always screened his calls and rarely answered.). Worst of all, Wilson thought grudgingly, was the fact that he'd been informed that the monster truck show wasn't to start for a while. This meant he'd have to stand around outside the arena and wait 'till House came, which hopefully wouldn't be long if House's obsession with monster trucks was anything to go by.

Wilson's attention was distracted by a slight tug at his jean leg. He looked down to find a tannish colored dog, a mutt of sorts, staring up at him with an amused expression. He stared it down. Wilson didn't mind dogs, but he was allergic and he really didn't need a red nose and bleary eyes right now. The dog simply gave a playful growl. Wilson gave up and gave the mutt a few pats on the head as its tongue lolled.

"Why, it's Billy Joe farmboy and Lassie's twin." A familiar voice droned behind him. Wilson rolled his eyes and turned around.

"I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me for General Hospital."

House smirked. "Well if it was just _you_, maybe, but I'm here for the monster trucks."

The dog trotted over to House curiously, sniffing his cane. House raised a brow. "Wilson, will you call this… thing off?" He asked, shaking his cane irritably at the dog, which only caused the dog to bark and grab the cane in its teeth, shaking it in a playful manner.

James couldn't help but grin as House and the dog had a brief fight over the cane. House won, and tried to thwap the dog but it dodged and ran away, clearly enjoying itself. House gave Wilson an unamused stare, then shook a Vicodin out of the ever-present bottle and swallowed it dry.

"I think it liked you." Wilson said cheerfully as House grumbled something about rabies shots. They both made their way to the steadily-growing line to the entrance of the monster truck arena.

It was after the show, and everyone was gathered outside of the arena on the grass to watch the fireworks.

"Shouldn't we be going about now?" Wilson didn't even bother looking at his watch. It wasn't the time he was worried about, it was the amount of beer he thought House could handle on top of the Vicodin. It was bad to take Vicodin with alchohol at all, but Wilson knew better than to debate with House on that account.

House patted the ground for his cane and managed to heave himself up with only the slightest of winces. "Don't worry, James. I'll get you back home before your parents start to get worried."

Wilson ignored the comment and led the way back towards the parking lot. He was surprised by the sudden urgent tone of House's voice. "Don't look now, but Jennifer's over by the cotton candy stand."

Wilson paused and looked as House groaned. "Don't _stop_, you idiot! Keep going! If we go behind that souvenir stand we can- Oh shit, here she comes." He growled as a pretty blonde woman approached them with an amused look on her face.

"Well if it isn't Jimmy Wilson and Greg House!" Wilson was trying to put on his best smile given the situation when House spoke.

"Hi Jennifer. It's been nice seeing you, but I really gotta go. Got, you know, sick patients." He said dryly. "See you later, Wilson."

Wilson could have taken House's cane away just about then as he watched the man hobble away triumphantly, leaving Wilson to deal with the woman. He turned to face Jennifer, who had a puzzled look on her face.

"When'd he get the cane?" She asked curiously, and Wilson was once again not sure whether he was more surprised at: House's lack of communication with what remained of his family or Wilson's own lack of communication with ex-girlfriends.

"Uh… A few years back." Wilson said, trying not to sound embarrassed. "Sorry I didn't call you, I've had a lot going on…"

Jennifer looked at Wilson and smirked. "I may be blonde, Jimmy, but I'm not stupid. And I know we've got totally different personalities." She placed a hand on his arm. "You don't have to keep in touch and be friends with all of your past girlfriends, you know."

Wilson shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, I know. It just makes me-"

"Feel better, I know." She glanced over at House's still retreating figure. "Greg, on the other hand, doesn't have much reason for alienating his cousin. Much less not telling her about a leg injury. Tell me, is he still with Stacy?"

Wilson winced, suddenly glad House was not listening to this conversation. "They…Ah…broke up. Around the time when the thing with the leg happened." Wilson explained, not quite telling the truth.

Jennifer cast him a serious glance, then shrugged. "Well, tell him he needs to call me sometime. Just because I'm related to him doesn't mean he can forget about me completely."

Wilson sighed and nodded, then looked over to where House had gone. Surprisingly, he found his friend wasn't in the parking lot yet. _Funny,_ Wilson thought. _Even with the leg he still should have gone by now. He can't be waiting for me, can he? _

"Well it was nice talking to you, Jennifer. I'll give you a call sometime." Wilson said distractedly, already beginning to head towards House's figure. He began to see what the problem was.

"I'm sure you will." Jennifer muttered to herself dryly before going back to the cotton candy stand.

Wilson caught up with House, who was hobbling about angrily- without his cane.

"What happened?" He asked, as House swallowed another Vicodin.

"That…damned…dog! It grabbed my cane and ran off. I swear, as soon as I get a hold of that beast I'm going to have it put down."

Wilson was torn between laughing and feeling bad for his friend. He settled for fighting down a grin while looking for the dog as House limped around muttering threats.

"Aha!" Wilson muttered, spotting a flash of tan near one of the cars. He jogged towards it to find the dog sitting right beside House's car, cane in mouth and looking very accomplished. Wilson raised a brow at the mutt. "You'd better give that back, or else my friend back there's going to blow a fuse." He said, edging towards the dog.

The dog tilted its head at him and barked, dropping the cane and running off. Wilson picked it up and wiped the slobber off before giving it back to House, who was now muttering about how he knew enough Chinese people to have picked up a very good recipe for dog.

Not considering this the best time for snide comments (at least not until the Vicodin kicked in), Wilson strolled along with House the last dozen yards. At least House had stopped muttering, although Wilson wasn't sure if brooding silence was much better. Still, he'd better ask the question.

"Do you think it would be ok if I stayed at your house tonight? Julie's off for some work thing…"

House glared at the ground for a few moments before answering, as if the ground had done him some grave injustice by supporting the dog that had stolen his cane. "I don't see any reason you couldn't." was his only answer.

Wilson smiled, eyes twinkling. "Great. I'll race you there."

House raised his eyebrows at Wilson's shoddy excuse for a ford, then at his own bright red convertible expressively.

"Bet I can beat you to the front door." Wilson said looking expressively at House's cane.

"Oh, you're going down, Billy Joe." House said with a grin.


End file.
